


Well, that was interesting

by fin_kedinn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, Gen, Humor, I mean, It's spelt humour you heathens, Reveal, Sort-of, Uther Finds Out About Merlin's Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:51:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fin_kedinn/pseuds/fin_kedinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossposted from ff.net.<br/>AU of 5.3. What if Arthur wasn't the only one to meet his ancestors?<br/>"Merlin?"<br/>"Yes, Arthur?"<br/>"Why is my father currently having a stare-off with a very dead Dragonlord?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: The following content contains oblivious!Arthur, obscure references no one has caught (or at least mentioned) yet, over-the-top reactions, and references prankster!Balinor and the magical explosion of certain dwellings. There is also a cat.  
> This work has been cross-posted from fanfiction.net.  
> This is my first work in the archive. If someone wants to explain the tagging system to me, I'm all ears.

Arthur breathed in deeply, steadying his nerves. He was going to see his father again, despite the fact that he was dead and it should be impossible. Well, without the use of magic, but who was really thinking about that? He blew the horn and dropped it, stepping forward to enter the Veil. An echoing of the horn's distinct trumpet coming from right behind stopped him in his tracks.

"...Merlin?" The man in question came into view in front of Arthur, grinning cheekily.

"Yes?"

"...What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you." Arthur stared at him blankly.

"Really."

"Yep." Gods his face, that grin- it was like he was taunting him! Being deliberately...Merlin!

"And why is that?"

"Well, I'm thinking that if I haven't met my father, there's a good chance he's dead." Merlin explained, as if it were obvious. "And anyway, if he  _isn't_ ,well, dead, at least I'll know that and get to meet my Grandparents." He frowned. "Unless they faked their deaths just to get away from me...I tried explaining that setting the cat on fire was an accident, and I didn't mean to do it, but they didn't believe me!" Granted, he had been trying to make it fly on the principle that hot air rises, but he hadn't really thought that a sopping wet cat (to prevent it catching fire, a bucket of water had been thrown on it) could actually be flammable.  
...Or maybe it was because their house blew up in his frustration. He had been pretty desperate to see a flying cat.

"...I won't ask. How did they respond." Merlin shrugged.

"They just shook their heads, looked sad, and told me I was just like my father."

"Right. I'll just walk in here now, pretend you never said any of that and that you are not following me in." Merlin's grin didn't bode well for Arthur's peace of mind. Not one bit.

* * *

Arthur stared. Then he shut his eyes, rubbed them and stared again. He glanced over at Merlin, to see him staring too, jaw slack. Arthur reached across and slammed it shut, causing Merlin to yelp and glare at him, but the strange vision was still there.

"Merlin?" He muttered. This was not happening.

"…Yes, Arthur?" Was it just him, or had Merlin's voice risen an octave in the space of ten seconds?

"Why is my father, the very,  _very_ anything-even-slightly-related-to-magic-must-be-burned-at-the-stake ex-king of Camelot having a glare contest with the, also very very dead, anti-Uther, no-I-will-not-help-your-kingdom-unless-you-whine-beg-and-plead-and-then-remind-me-of-old-debts last Dragonlord Balinor?" Merlin didn't respond. Well, not verbally at least. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times, and you could just  _see_ his mind working furiously to come up with an answer besides the strange, squeaky choking sound he was making.

"… _Mer_ lin. Is there something you're not telling me? Because you're really doing a  _very_ good job of explaining why there is someone here who, technically, shouldn't be. Now, I'm sure there is some sort of logical and reasonable explanation for all this. If you'd care to tell me?"

Merlin was still doing his fish impression. Arthur marvelled for a moment at just how  _good_ it was, before he realised he was getting side-tracked.

"Merlin." Oh, good. The fish has gone. And been replaced by a tomato, it would seem.

"Uh...I, well...You see-" Arthur sighed dramatically, interrupting Merlin and drawing attention to himself.

"Any time today would be nice." It would seem tomatoes come in many shades of red. Or at least, Merlin's face did.

"Arthur." Uther addressed his son, his tone as formal as it had been in life. This probably had something to do with the fact he was still glaring daggers at the Dragonlord, who was still staring right back. Arthur resisted the urge to pinch his nose to hold back the headache he could feel coming on. He just knew Merlin had something to do with this.

"Father." He responded. Really, what else could he say? His father was currently ignoring him in favour of a staring contest. Oh yeah, and he was dead. "You're looking...well."

Oh God. Had he really just said that? The man looked like he was dead!...which he was. And it seemed that the two toddlers- sorry, men, had been shocked out of their silent tantrum/stare-off and were now looking at him. Ignoring the mental image of Uther throwing himself on the floor and bawling, which was threatening to send him into hysterical laughter, Arthur gazed back at the two men staring at him incredulously and fought to keep his lip from twitching. When Balinor joined the image, throwing pebbles at the Uther now in baby-clothes, he knew it was a lost cause.

Merlin, Uther and Balinor watched, stunned, as the king of Camelot, the man hated and feared (or just hated) by his enemies, the man who inspired his allies and subjects and who had put down magical plot after magical plot...collapsed into a heap on the floor, giggling helplessly. Every time it seemed he would recover, he would take one look at his father's face, and collapse again, gasping out something about pebbles, baby-clothes and tantrums. Surreptitiously, Balinor leaned over to Merlin whilst still staring.

"So...is this normal behaviour?" Merlin numbly shook his head.

"I don't think so...but then again, he hasn't seen his father in a while. This could just be his way of coping." Balinor nodded, eyeing the hysterical heap.

"I suppose...anyway, how've you been?" Merlin blinked, glancing at Balinor before turning back to Arthur.

"Oh, fine, thanks. I dealt with Kilgharrah, after." Balinor's face darkened.

"Is he dead?"

"Oh, no. He's still knocking around, you know, doing whatever it is he does and being infuriatingly cryptic. I hate going to him for advice. Always talks in riddles when it's an emergency..."

Balinor blinked. "He never use to be like that..." Merlin shrugged.

"Must be age." Balinor looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding.

"Maybe. Or the loss of a species." Merlin shook his head.

"Nah, can't be that, Aithusa's knocking around."

"Aithusa?"

"Ohhh yeah, I didn't tell you about that, did I? Well, we found another dragon's egg. I hatched it, and then Kilgharrah managed to lose her. To Morgana. Who she saved. And then they  _both_  got themselves captured, Aithusa's deformed, and both are evil!" He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Bloody dragons..."  
Balinor looked at him in sympathy.

"Yeah, I suppose that would be frustrating." A beat of silence as both watched Arthur clutching at his stomach, giggles finally subsiding. "How's Hunith?"

"She's coping. Your death hit her hard, but after you'd been missing so long, it didn't hurt as much as it could. You know, she still misses you."

"After all these years..."

"She wanted to look for you, but with me around, she was stuck in Ealdor." Balinor hummed thoughtfully.

"I would have come back if I'd known about you. Taken you with me, and your mother too." Uther chose this moment to realise what they'd been talking about.

He blinked as his brain starting thinking about what they'd said  _dragons...hatching...running...his_ mother...

"YOU'RE HIS SON!" He screamed, pointing dramatically at Merlin. "AND  **YOU!**  YOU'RE HIS  _FATHER!"  
_

Merlin blinked, turning to his father. "You know, I thought he knew."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Merlin shrugged.

"Thought that was why you two were glaring."

"Nooo, that was because he killed most of the dragons, imprisoned the last one, killed every other Dragonlord and made me abandon your mother."

"Ah." It was at this point Arthur decided to join in.

"Sorry about that. Father, how have you been?" Ignore the stupid question.  _Ignore_  the  _stupid_ question.  _Ignore it._ You'll  _giggle again._

"HE'S A DRAGONLORD!"

"Balinor? I thought that was why we were looking for him when we killed the dragon." Why was Balinor glaring at Merlin, and what was so fascinating about his boots? Obviously, Merlin thought there was something- he was studying them as if there was no tomorrow.

"NOT HIM! THE  _BOY!"_ Uther hissed into his face. Arthur ignored the urge to wipe away the spit.

"Who, Merlin? That's impossible! He's useless! When we fought the dragon, all he did was hide!" Simultaneously, Merlin ducked his head, Balinor slapped his forehead, muttering about the idiocy of the Pendragons and Uther stared as if Arthur was so stupid it hurt.

"Why haven't you told him?" Balinor groaned. Merlin flushed a bright red and Arthur was instantly suspicious.

"Told me what?" Merlin seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. " _Merlin."_

"Um, the dragon, sort of isn't actually...well, dead." He coughed. "I...snm'way." He mumbled.

"What."

"Isnmway." Balinor kicked him in the shin. Merlin glared at the innocently whistling Dragonlord."I SENT HIM AWAY!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, only a Dragonlord could do that." Why was Balinor moaning 'humanity is doomed' into the ground?

"That's why I didn't tell him," Merlin muttered, patting the older man's shoulder. "The hope of Albion is mind-numbingly stupid."

"...Hang on. Didn't he say something about knowing your mother earlier?" Uther nodded frantically, a hopeful look on his face while Balinor looked as if things weren't quite as bad as he thought. Merlin just had this knowing look on his face.

"MERLIN! HE KNEW YOUR MOTHER!"

"Yes, Arthur...yes, he did."

"Then that means...!"

"Yes...?"

"THAT HE TOLD YOUR MOTHER HOW TO CONTROL DRAGONS, AND THEN SHE TOLD YOU! MERLIN, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!?" Balinor looked like he was ready to die. Again. Uther burst into tears. Merlin sighed, as if he had expected nothing more from the wilfully blind prat.

"Because...that's not what happened." Merlin briefly shut his eyes, praying that this would work out well. "Balinor...he's my father. I'm a Dragonlord."

"...I told you he wasn't worth your tears." Merlin smiled. Of all the things to pick up on..."I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You didn't know."

"Well, isn't this heart-warming." Uther grumbled to Balinor, who seemed to have recovered from the mind-blowing stupidity. The Dragonlord gave him a look.

"Aren't you just a bundle of sunshine." He muttered. "What's the problem with this?"

"The boy's a servant! Arthur is far above his social standing, and shouldn't even talk to him except to give him orders!" The ex-king huffed. "And he's a Dragonlord! Arthur should be deciding on his sentence, not apologising for causing undue distress!" Balinor raised an eyebrow.

"Just for existing? He didn't exactly choose this, you know. Neither did I, or any of the others. Or the dragons." He let Uther sputter for a minute, before continuing. "Anyway, it's not like you can do anything about it now. You're dead, I'm dead, and by the looks of things our sons are best friends. How does that feel?"

"I..."

"MERLIN, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!?" Merlin yelped as a glove smacked him across the head.

"...interesting friendship." Uther finished. Balinor hummed in agreement.

"Seems very violent. Almost like Arthur's denying it exists." Merlin overheard and a grin spread across his face.

"Hey, Arthur! I'm not the only one who thinks you're in denial about our friendship!" Arthur crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"Well, if someone didn't feel the need to keep important secrets from me, maybe I would be a little more open about it. Eh, Merlin?" He chuckled nervously.

"Yeah..."

Arthur nodded, stepping up to Uther. "Father. I have missed you. A lot. And there are times where I don't know what to do and can't help but think that you would make far better decisions than I ever would. I have done my best in ruling the kingdom, and any advice would be appreciated." He bowed his head. "Please."

Uther opened his mouth, ready to unleash a tirade about the sloppy rule- showing mercy, knighting commoners, marrying a serving girl  _for love,_ what a ridiculous notion- before he caught the other two glaring at him in warning, eyes screaming at him silently,  _Don't._ It was not that they were particularly scary - though who knew the boy could be intimidating? - it was more the thought that, when they left, Uther would have eternity with Balinor, the self proclaimed master of practical jokes. And he really deserved that title. Uther still remembered the horror stories involving blue dye, 5 horses, an anvil, a strip of cloth, a family of rats, a river and a spoon. And he still had flashbacks from his childhood, when the Dragonlords were treated as, well, lords, and he became the unwitting victim of many a trap. He'd been stuck with a purple face and smelling like a girl for weeks...So what came out of his mouth was completely different.

"You have done a fine job Arthur. As well as I could expect. Well done." And, seeing the Dragonlords watching him expectantly, he hugged his son.

Arthur stood there in shock for a moment, before returning the gesture hesitantly. Nodding, Uther withdrew, smiling. "I will always love you Arthur."

Arthur looked like he was about to cry. "Father...I love you too." Balinor and Merlin were both watching the scene with ridiculously soppy expressions. When they noticed, both kings felt their dignity at stake and turned to glare at the two.

"Don't. Say. A word." They growled. It really was astonishing how synchronised they were. Merlin and Balinor, not to be outdone turned to each other and embraced enthusiastically.

"My son! Alas, I have not seen thee for many years, and our meeting has been overshadowed by the emotional reunion of the Pendragons!"

"Father! I have missed you so much, that I almost did something inexplicably stupid! I nearly asked Arthur for emotional advice!" Balinor gasped, tightening his grip.

"Never again shall you contemplate such a thing! The very thought is terrifying enough to make me consider asking Kilgharrah for help!" Were those  _tears_  on their faces?

"No, Father!"

"Son!"

"Father!"

"Son!"

"Oh gods stop it please." Arthur groaned. Merlin grinned. They released the embrace, and Merlin started to turn to go to Arthur. A pair of hand clasping his shoulders pulled him back in front of Balinor.

"All joking aside, I've missed you, the opportunity to get to know you and a chance to spend time with you and your mother. I've missed Hunith just as much all these years, and I just wish I'd been able to go back." He patted Merlin gently on the shoulder. "Look after your mother for me, and try not to get yourself killed. You two attract trouble like flies to honey." Merlin smiled sheepishly, nodding.

"I will, Father." Balinor smiled.

"Go on then." Merlin nodded, walking up to a sniggering Arthur.

"All finished?"

"I am. I don't know about you, dollopheads have an unfortunate tendency to take a long time with things like these..."

"Merlin."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up."

As they made their way to where they came in, Arthur started complaining again. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about being a Dragonlord! It's ridiculous. Next thing I know, you'll be telling me you're an immortal warlock who's been doing magic since birth, and whose destiny is to save my life over and over and bring magic back to Albion!"

"Umm..."

" _MERLIN!?"_

They left the spirit world to the sounds of Balinor's laughter and Uther's enraged screams.

 


	2. Of Cats, Physics and Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Content Unlocked- the Cat Expansion! Watch as this precocious magical child completely butchers the scientific progress, scarring creatures lovable and furry and destroying homes in the process.   
> Or; you know that one-off mention about the exploding house and highly flammable cat back in chapter one? Yeah, not so much a 'one-off mention' anymore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It struck me today that this chapter has been up for years on ff.net and I forgot to upload it on here. It's a travesty.  
> Happy Christmas y'all.

When Merlin was four, he loved nothing more than to watch things fly (His mother excluded, of course). It probably started when his mother pointed to a merlin hovering in the distance and telling him that was what he was named after, as after that he would spent all the time he could sneaking out and watching birds swooping and soaring with excitement and a sense of rebellious pleasure. After a couple of weeks, maybe a month, he started trying to make things fly. His first attempt was met with pain and dizziness.

He quickly learnt not to levitate himself in cramped spaces. Or that making holes in his bedroom ceiling wouldn't help when flying.

His second attempt was considerably happier, as was the third and fourth attempts, but the fifth was met with screaming and a slap on the wrist. Apparently, making the pot hover whilst it was full of hot stew was a good way to terrify his mother. When she had stopped screaming hysterically and had calmed down enough to ask what he'd been thinking, he explained as best as a four year old could that he had wanted to see it fly. She listened calmly, and told him gently that he had to stop making things float with his magic, but could try any other way.

After his sixth attempt, he was told any other way than his magic and tall trees.

Old Man Simmons kept a close eye on him after that.

One night, after a failed seventh, eighth and ninth attempts, he was sitting quietly by the fire in his grandparents house while they and his mother were helping out elsewhere. He stared morosely into the flames, wallowing in his misery when a pile of leaves were blown into the fire by the wind gusting under the door. Merlin watched, mesmerised, as they fell into the fire and started to rise. Swallowing, he shakily grabbed a leaf and dropped it gently above the flames, and when it stayed, another and another. As he watched the dead leaves dance in the hot air, a splitting grin spread across his face.

Merlin quickly found that leaves didn't normally fly, and it wasn't his magic at work- he discovered that, anything light put over anything hot would float, and that hot air rises. With this in mind, he started using fires to make things fly, and learnt that things normally catch fire if they're thrown onto one. He was very careful to use wet or damp things after that.

About a week later, Merlin had tried to fly leaves, grass, branches, flowers, pebbles, mud, pots, bowls, clothes and the occasional mouse. He was tempted to try birds, but dismissed them as they could already fly (that, and they were extremely difficult to catch). Having run out of things to experiment with, he was sat there, bored, whilst waiting for his mother and grandparents to finish bringing in the harvest. Swinging his legs, arms propping up his head, he stared out of the open door. There wasn't anything particularly interesting out there, just people carrying the crops back and forth, more people running out to the fields, his grandparents' ginger tom sleeping just outside the door, basking in the sunlight.

...wait a minute...

Finally! Merlin may have attempted to make mice fly, but he hadn't tested on any other animals. At the moment, there was a prime specimen just waiting to be used in experimentation, and what was even better was that the subject was already tranquillised! There would be no need to use anaesthetic, as the subject was already unconscious, so costs would be saved and they could get results from this trial even sooner!

...Merlin had no idea where that thought came from, but he ignored it and carried on with his four-year-old, sixth century, non-scientist thought process.

He was bored. There was a cat. He hadn't made a cat fly yet. Making the cat fly would stop him being bored for at least ten minutes. With this in mind, the child hopped down off the bench and rushed towards the cat. He was about to pick it up and drag it to the fire when he suddenly remembered what happened when dry materials came into contact with flames. Having no wish for the cat to become kitty flambée, he dragged the half empty bucket of water from the corner dumped it over the now very awake moggy. Not giving time for the feline to become a yowling, scratching maelstrom of fury, he hauled it into his arms and tottered over to the flames. The cat, now seeing its destination, started to panic and began to frantically claw at Merlin's arms. The boy lurched the final steps before giving into the pain and dropping the ginger fuzzball into the flames.

Needless to say, kitty was not happy. The instant it landed, spread-eagled on the logs, it let out a piercing caterwauling and shot out of the hearth like a bullet. Merlin toppled backwards as an orange streak flew by and knocked him into the table. His head collided into the corner with a painful, dizzying thud and brought tears to his eyes. The already shoddy control on his magic slipped, and the frustration at the blinking cat and the blinding pain in his head resulted in the small house where he lived with his mother, well...it blew up.

It led to some extreme panic amongst the villagers. Houses don't just burst, bits of wall and ceiling and door piercing through other houses and nearly some people. And they don't spontaneously turn into a blazing inferno either, a thick cloud of smoke that can be seen for miles just hovering above it. And, usually when a house burns like that, small children inside don't just come out with nothing more than a bleeding scalp.

Merlin's family arrived just in time to see a teary, bleeding Merlin clinging onto the person who had retrieved him from the fire desperately. Hunith gladly took over, crushing him into a huge hug while the story came out garbled incoherently through great, gasping sobs, both women gasping and expressing sympathy and giving comfort to the traumatised toddler. Merlin's grandfather...he just shook his head, conflicted between disbelief and despairing acceptance, before striding off to get them somewhere to spend the night, muttering, "Bloody boy, don't know what I was expecting..." He huffed, throwing both arms in the air. "Just like his father!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original AN;  
> Yes, it is short. Yes, it is incredibly vague and may feel slightly rushed. But I have a maths exam in two days, and this is the only time I'll have to do this.
> 
> For the cat, I had a mental image of a four-year-old Merlin throwing leaves over a fire and watching them float. His grandparents had a ginger cat, and he really wanted to see it fly; naturally, Merlin decides that, since he can't use magic, he'll use the fire. But he doesn't want the cat to get burnt, so he'll throw water on it.  
> The poor unsuspecting cat was fast asleep when that annoying two-legs who is always pulling its tail or wearing it as a hat throws a bucket of water over it. Dazed, it doesn't respond while Merlin picks it up and hauls it to the fire. It only responds by yowling and shooting out, spraying sparks everywhere when it's actually dumped on the burning logs. Merlin gets knocked over and whacks his head against the table, ensuring even worse control on his magic than a four-year-old would usually have. So his frustration manifests as the house blowing up.
> 
> I am unnecessarily cruel to fictional things.
> 
> You know what would be really, really nice? Reviews. Thanks for reading.


	3. The Pranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title speaks for itself, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to all of you people who've read this, left kudos and comments and bookmarks and general appreciation for the author. You guys are awesome.  
> (this chapter is also much shorter than I remember it being originally....)

**Uther Pendragon- Aged 16**

Uther woke slowly to the sound of birdsong, the faint scent of wildflowers and the sensation of something heavy on his face. Mumbling, he squinted through one eye at the window to see that the sun wasn't up yet - the sky was still the pale grey of the pre-dawn - and rolled over, stuffing his face in a pillow.  
The heaviness on his face moved.  
Frowning, he sat up and pressed a hand against his cheek that came away smeared with a thick purple goo. Looking down, he saw that it was not only on his pillows, but coating the bedsheets and his arms. Judging by the stiffness of his hair, he was hardly surprised when the mirror showed him that it was not just his face that was purple.  
In fact, the only part of him that seemed to have escaped was the skin covered by clothing or sheets.

Dumbfounded, he stared at the purple teen with wild hair that was his reflection, wondering how such a thing could have happened.

Trip to the tavern the night before. Ygraine had been there, hiding beneath a long cloak and laughing in the corner with one of her cousins. He'd wanted to go over, speak with her, make her laugh like that...but with his heart in his throat and his hands shaking, he'd barely been able to muster the courage to stand. Balinor, good friend that he was, had noticed Uther's anxiety and shoved a tankard of mead into his hands. And a second. And a third.  
The rest of the night disappeared into a haze of drink after drink, heady confidence and rocking floors.

And then he'd awoken purple and smelling like a meadow in the early hours. Uther growled.  
Someone would pay for this.

"Prince Uther's demanding that we bring up a bath." The head servant groaned.  
"A bath? At this hour? Whatever for?" The maid shook her head.  
"He wouldn't say, just demanded we bring a bath, soap, and leave without opening the door."  
The servant paused. "He doesn't want help? What about breakfast?"  
"Said that was to be left outside, too."  
"Hmm."

Uther stared at his arms in disbelieving despair. Despite being pink and tender from repeated scrubbing with the soap, they were still purple.  
Admittedly, the colour had faded somewhat, but the fact remained that his arms were still purple. No doubt his face, having received a far less vigorous scrubbing due to the sensitivity of the skin was still as purple as when he had awoken that morning. It didn't help that the harder he scrubbed, the stronger the smell had gotten, until Uther felt as though he had a bunch of flowers stuck up his nose. Glancing in the mirror, he groaned as he realised that the water had caused whatever was making his face purple to run down his face and bleed onto his chest, staining it lilac.  
And the sun was up. Very up. He'd been sccurbbing for hours.

Sighing in defeat, he clambered out of the bath, staring mournfully at the purple water. Resigning himself to a day of mockery and many items of clothing, he got dressed and opened the door to fetch a servant to clean his chambers.

Ygraine was outside, a hand raised to knock.

For a moment, time stood still. Then Ygraine's face twitched, and she covered her smile with a hand.  
Uther sighed.  
"I don't suppose you happen to know where Balinor would be?" He asked. Smile wider, she shrugged.

"I don't, sorry." She said. She gestured to her face. "I suppose he's responsible?"

Uther scowled. "He was the one getting me drunk enough for it to happen. Whatever happened, I'm blaming him regardless." He paused.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me find him?" He said slowly.

She smiled.

-  
The following week was wholly unremarkable save for Uther's purple skin and flowery scent following him in a cloud everywhere he went.

At least, until Balinor awoke with blue hair and emitting a pheromone that seemed to attract all the sparrows in the kingdom to flock him at every opportunity.

At the sound of his alarmed screams, Uther and Ygraine exchanged glances across the room and smiled.

**Uther Pendragon- aged 19**

"I cannot believe you fell asleep on your horse."

Uther sighed exasperatedly. "Shut up, Balinor."

Balinor sniggered from where he was sat by the campfire.

The day had started off well, with remarkably good weather for autumn. Despite the chill in the air, the sky had been clear and the sun providing what warmth it could. Due to the mild weather conditions, Uther had, in his infinite wisdom, decided that a hunting trip was the best way to enjoy the day.

Listening to Balinor's snickering, he was rapidly coming to regret that decision.

He let out a long suffering sigh. "Yes, Balinor, I fell asleep on my horse. It's terribly amusing. The tale is sure to be told for years to come. Can we eat now?" He said, gesturing to the pot simmering in front of them. It contained their spoils for the day- a handful of rabbits, scared my the sound of Uther snagging his foot on a tree root and falling on his face with a crash. Balinor had been laughing too hard to catch them, and they would have escaped were it not for the fact they'd run into the snares that a servant had laid earlier.

Balinor shrugged. "Don't see why not. However," he waved his bowl and spoon with an air of triumph. "You will have to get your own spoon. It's in the pack on your saddle." Dismissing the conversation, he promptly ladled a generous portion into his bowl and sat back. Uther sighed, getting to his feet and trudging over to the horses, thankful that the day was nearly over and that there was very little left to go wrong.

This assessment changed when he opened the pouch only to be overun with several large rats.

Yelping, he jumped away only to find several of them had landed on him and were trying to find ways into his clothing. Yelling incoherently, he grabbed the one nipping at his ear and hurled it away.

It landed on one of the horses.

The horse, startled by the sudden presence of a family of large rodents in its general vicinity, became rather alarmed and bolted. This caused the rest of the horse, previously perfectly calm, to become alarmed and also bolt.

All of them headed in Uther's direction.

Swearing, he dropped the last of the rats on the floor. It gave an indignant squeak and trotted off into the underbrush. Uther, screaming to the heavens turned tail and ran, desperately trying to avoid death by horse. The first warning he had of the tripwire was when his foot snagged it and something thick, blue and powdery fell over his head. Scrambling to his feet, he lurched forward only to find air beneath his feet. He had a brief moment to contemplate the impossibility of this when he hit the water.

Spluttering, he resurfaced to find himself in the river that ran parallel to the camp. He'd managed to land in the deepest section, thankfully, and up on the bank he could see the horses being corralled by members of their expedition. SIghing with relief, he went to swim away.

A tugging on his ankle dunked his head back underwater. Resurfacing again, he found that the tripwire had managed to snag and wrap around his ankle, preventing him from moving. Following the cloth with his eyes, he saw the other end tied to a solid, old anvil.

Well. That complicated matters.

A guffaw caught his attention, and turning to the opposite bank he found Balinor giggling helplessly.

Uther let out a longsuffering sigh. He'd be hearing about this one for weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't know about you lot but this feels somewhat....incomplete. Ideas for a 4th installment, anyone?)
> 
> Original AN (ff.net):  
> Hello people. It's been a while and I thought, well. It's my birthday. I thought I'd go the route of hobbits and give you a gift. Therefore, as I procrastinate on everything I do, I decided to leave it until today to actually write and post the damn thing. Sorry.  
> I would also like to thank every single one of you who decided to read this thing, and an extra special thanks to all those who reviewed, favourited and followed. You guys are awesome and make my day.  
> -  
> Not entirely happy with this but it's written. If I didn't post it now I never would have.  
> Thanks to all of you. Have a good day!

**Author's Note:**

> End.  
> Please leave a review on your way out.


End file.
